


small acts of (un)kindness

by aroray



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Roleplay, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, consensual mugging, dark themes, gavin needs to not be so enthusiastic about this, michael needs better friends, ray needs to chill, very minimal aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroray/pseuds/aroray
Summary: “I’m not looking for some PG version of what I go out there for,” Ray says, snorting. “I’m not interested in playing pretend with you just so you don’t have to worry.”Gavin looks at him. Smiles. “Oh, Ray,” he murmurs. “I won’t be pretending.”





	small acts of (un)kindness

**Author's Note:**

> (tfw you write something so screwy you post it on your friends' collaborative account instead of your own)
> 
> seriously this is some dark shit proceed with caution

Ray wakes up on his back, lying on cracked sidewalk somewhere west of downtown.

He stares up at persistent, faintly orange glow of the night sky, takes a breath, and swears colorfully up at it.

He really needs to stop doing this.

When things get bad, when he can’t ignore the crawling, curling dark in his head, he leaves all his weapons on his bed and goes walking in the bad part of town.

For Los Santos, a city that is one large _bad part of town_ , this means that it usually only takes half an hour before someone’s dragging him out from under the light of street lamps and waving a knife in his face and demanding he give up his valuables.

Which is exactly what Ray wants.

He _really_ needs to stop doing this.

He barely remembers the encounter now, probably because of the swift kick to the head he’d gotten or the cocktail of drugs he’d had coursing through his system. What he does remember is all rapid snapshots: a knife at his neck (hadn’t been sharpened in probably ever, that was disappointing), struggling (on purpose, because if he just cooperates he doesn’t get the reaction he’s looking for), a burning cut beneath his jaw (there, that’s it), being thrown to the sidewalk and stomped on and then black, everything black, everything gone.

Almost like death.

Not close enough.

He struggles to stand and hisses through his teeth, lifts one pant leg to discover his right ankle is swollen and red, and every time he moves it, stabbing pain shoots up his leg. Hopefully not broken, but—well, he’s fresh out of hope. Probably broken.

That makes things a little more difficult.

He starts hobbling down the sidewalk and collapses barely ten yards in. “Mother _fucker_ ,” he groans, angry, like this isn’t his own fault.

He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for when he goes out and sets himself up like this, a rabbit running directly into the fox’s den. It helps, though. If only for just a second. Like he’s finally getting what he deserves. Makes him feel clean, so clean he’s raw, so pure he might never wake up again.

And worthless, too. Always that.

His wallet and phone are long gone, so he limps into the nearest convenience store. Either he looks so pathetic or so terrifying the clerk just lets him use the phone; as long as she’s not calling the police, he’s fine.

Ray pauses, index finger hovering over the buttons.

He can’t call Michael. He’d just get reamed out with that ‘I’m terrified and concerned so I’m gonna mask it with anger’ thing Michael does, and Ray doesn’t think he can handle that. Can’t call Jack; she’d do the same thing, but worse. Geoff would be useless and ask too many questions. Ryan would be completely silent but the emotions rolling off him would choke Ray. And Jeremy—Christ, the kid would just look at him in confusion and concern in that heartbreaking way he does whenever Ray does anything self-destructive, and that’d be worst of all.

He dials.

The line rings for a long while and then catches. “It’s two in the bloody morning, Ray, are you _mental_ ,” an irritated, tired voice grouses.

Ray smiles. “Hey, Vav. I kinda need a ride.”

——

“You stupid prick,” Gavin says, for maybe the third time as they’re driving back.

“Mhm,” Ray agrees, nodding off in the passenger seat.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Gavin rolls his eyes when Ray looks at him. “Yeah, I know what you’ve been doing. Know it’s on purpose. _Stupid_.”

“I need it,” Ray says quietly.

“If you need someone to mug you, _I’ll_ do it, for god’s sake,” Gavin mutters, pulling into the garage. “Least then you won’t end up dying somewhere alone in the bloody dark.”

Ray laughs, rueful.

Thinks about it.

Doesn’t stop thinking about it.

——

When it gets bad again, his ankle’s been healed for weeks and the bootprint bruise on his back is long faded. Ray tries to fight it off for days, but it’s calling to him in the night like the worst siren song, demanding he offer himself up, crooning like a seduction, take off your guns and slip into something more comfortable, like naked knife wounds, like the thrill of cold fear in your chest.

The night he plans to go out, Gavin corners him in the living room.

“You’re mental,” he says, in lieu of a greeting.

Ray’s inclined to agree. “Hey to you, too.”

“If you’re doing this, you’re doing it my way.”

Ray’s not sure how Gavin knows what he’s planning. Maybe he looks as cagey as he feels. Still, his hackles raise instinctively. “How about you lay off, okay, you have no idea what this is.”

Gavin laughs, patronizing. “Neither do you.”

Ray swallows. “Look—”

“Either you do this my way, or I go and tell the others all about the sick shite you’ve been doing in your spare time.”

Ray goes very still. “God. You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

Gavin doesn’t look bothered in the least. “Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t get off on it,” he says, and something hot unfurls in Ray. “Me stalking you, getting you all alone in some dirty alley and threatening to cut you up like the worthless piece of meat you are.”

A choked sound tumbles from Ray before he can stop it. Gavin looks very, very smug. The thing is, it’s tempting. He can picture it, _is_ picturing it, and he and Gavin have done some fucked up shit before, so this is just—almost a natural progression. Like they’ve been heading for exactly this since the beginning.

But: “I’m not looking for some PG version of what I go out there for,” he says, snorting. “I’m not interested in playing pretend with you just so you don’t have to worry.”

Gavin looks at him. Smiles. “Oh, Ray,” he murmurs. “I won’t be pretending.”

——

It’s unusually chilly out. Ray wishes he’d pulled on his hoodie before leaving.

He’s been walking for the better part of an hour, past his usual haunts and out farther from the center of the city than he usually goes. He’s shaking, a little.

Because of the cold.

He’s ready to turn around and start heading back the way he came; he’s tired and annoyed and really just wants to commandeer the couch and smoke a bowl and watch a whole season of Parks and Rec straight until he passes out.

He hears footsteps behind him a fraction of a second before someone’s grabbing him, wrenching his arms behind his back and using the leverage to haul him back behind an abandoned building.

Ray struggles automatically, fear bursting like pop rocks in his throat, and he’s got his face shoved against cold bricks before he can even yell.

“Easy, now,” a voice says, and Ray’s efforts to get loose redouble; he doesn’t recognize the low, smooth tone, free of accent. The muzzle of a gun digs up hard under his jaw, nearly chokes him. Dumb with panic, Ray almost doesn’t notice the rhythm being tapped out on the back of his hand.

Gavin had insisted on practicing it several times while they’d talked through the scene, and Ray hadn’t known why the hell it was necessary, but he does now, because with the way Gavin’s masking his voice and half covering his face in a hoodie, this could be anyone. And Gavin’s their front man, good at what he does, so this is flawless; he’s somebody else right now. Ray almost moans at the thought.

His struggles are less wild now, but he continues to put up a fight, half instinct, half...something else.

Gavin grabs him by the hair and slams his face into the wall, nearly cracks his glasses. He leans in and murmurs into his ear, almost a croon, "We don't want any trouble, now, do we? You be good for me and _maybe_ you'll get to go home tonight."

Ray shudders violently, full-bodied, and Gavin _laughs_.

There’s blood dripping from his nose, settling into the cracks in his lips; he’ll be lucky if it isn’t broken, but even if it is, he’s too dazed—and fuck, okay, turned on—to care.

“Wallet,” Gavin says, almost like he’s bored. When Ray doesn’t respond immediately, the gun digs harder into his throat.

Ray gags, coughs. “Front— Front left pocket.”

“Good, that’s good,” Gavin says, but it’s mocking and cold, and Ray jerks a little as Gavin reaches into his pocket, the heat of his hand seeping through Ray’s jeans to his thigh for a precious second.

What Gavin takes out of Ray’s pocket is not his wallet. Gavin lets out this sound that’s a mix of irritated and interested.

“You slut,” he says casually, dangling the condom and packet of lube in front of Ray’s face and then letting them drop to the pavement.

Ray wonders where the switchblade is, wonders if he remembered to put that in his pocket too, thinks, of course he did, that was the whole goddamn point—and then there’s a soft _shhck_ , and Ray’s cock pulses.

Gavin reaches into his other pocket, finds nothing because of course there’s nothing in it, but then his fingers press against Ray’s dick through the lining of the pocket.

“Now, _that’s_ interesting,” he murmurs.

“ _Stop_ ,” Ray says desperately, starting to squirm again.

Gavin’s hand withdraws, and then Ray feels his shirt get rucked up a little, feels the cool, sharp tip of the knife trail along his skin just over the top of his jeans, pressing into him hard but not enough to break the skin, not yet. “The wallet,” he says, voice hard. “Am I going to have to fucking cut it out of you?”

Ray _moans_.

It rings out into the quiet of the alley and his face goes hot with humiliation.

For a moment, Gavin says nothing. Then, “Oh, you’re _sick_. Do you want me to cut you, you little whore?”

Ray chokes out something that might be a _please_. He’s so hard it aches.

Gavin laughs, cruel and low, into his ear. “ _Beg for it._ ”

Ray goes still, goes wide-eyed, stunned. “N-No—”

Gavin wraps a hand around his throat. “Do it. Beg me to hurt you.”

Ray likes to think he might have some amount of pride left, somewhere deep within him, but Gavin just keeps tracing little patterns on Ray's vulnerable stomach with the tip of the knife, his muscles jumping and trembling beneath it, and so it's not long before he's struggling in the hold Gavin's got him in and sobbing, mindless, _Cut me cut me please cut me_ —

“I don’t think you deserve it,” Gavin murmurs, tightening his grip on Ray’s neck a little. “You don’t deserve even that. Do you.”

Ray’s trying desperately to roll his hips against the wall, but Gavin’s got him pulled back just enough that all he can manage are little aborted thrusts into empty air. “No, no, I don’t, fuck, I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve _anything_ but please, _please—_ ”

Gavin cuts off his air.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, and Ray nods as best he can against the chokehold while he wheezes uselessly.

He presses the blade against Ray’s skin harder and harder only to pull it away just before it can do any damage. Ray writhes.

“Look at you,” Gavin continues, contempt soaking his words. "You're getting off on this. I could beat you within an inch of your life and you'd come all over yourself and _thank_ me. Wouldn't you." Ray struggles, everything starting to go grey around the edges, and Gavin shakes him hard and hisses, " _Wouldn't you_ ," and Ray rasps out a _yes_ and fuck, fuck, he's never been so hard in his life.

There’s zero warning before Gavin loosens his grip and then slices Ray right over the point of his hipbone.

Ray nearly comes right there.

Gavin covers his mouth and nose with one hand to stifle the combination gasp/scream/moan that bursts from him. “You wanna get caught? You’re the one embarrassing yourself.”

Ray’s hip _burns_. He whines.

Gavin sneers. "You _would_ like to get caught, wouldn't you. Have someone watch you creaming your jeans while you're getting sliced into." Ray chokes out a moan. "Or maybe you want some stranger walking up and joining in on the fun. Holding you still for me while I take my sweet time with you." He jerks Ray's arms behind his back and wrenches them up until his shoulders are screaming in protest. "Ought to just leave you here, hard and bleeding, for anyone to find."

Ray feels _moments_ from coming, and Gavin hasn’t even _done_ anything, definitely hasn’t touched him. And that’s humiliating, it’s fucking awful, which only serves to turn him on more.

God, he’s sick.

But that doesn’t stop him from choking out a whimpered _Oh, fuck,_ as he squirms, fighting to get some kind of friction.

Gavin _laughs_ at him.

Everything is still and quiet for one long, endless moment, and then Gavin adjusts his grip so Ray is completely pinned, and in one quick motion he rucks Ray’s shirt up and stabs right fucking through the very, very edge of his side. The wound is straight through, fuck, it’s _straight through_ but so shallow under his skin that he can imagine Gavin tearing the knife sideways out of him with no effort at all.

Ray _screams_.

He’s completely gone, voice torn raw and ragged as his knees buckle with both the pain and the fact that he's coming, shaking so hard he nearly cracks his face against the wall again, and as Gavin eases the knife out, the white-hot burning makes his cock pulse again.

He thinks, not for the first time, that something must be wrong with him.

Gavin's saying something, he can't even process it, hyperaware of the blood soaking into his jeans and the wound throbbing in time with his heart, and then Gavin's working his fly open and taking Ray's spent cock in his hand and jerking it fast and rough.

Ray writhes desperately, yells again even though his voice is wrecked, but Gavin doesn't give him even a second of reprieve, just works him relentlessly back to hardness while Ray's half out of his mind, mumbling _no no no fuck too much please please_ but very much avoiding the safeword that they’d agreed on until oversensitivity blurs halfway back to pleasure.

It's only when Ray's moaning again that Gavin pulls away and _shoves_ him. Ray's so weak and off-balance that he falls hard to the dirty alley ground on the side he was cut and he curls up, shaking, hard and bleeding. The wound is superficial despite the theatrics, isn’t gonna do any lasting damage except fucking _hurt_ , and that’s enough.

He doesn't realize Gavin's standing above him and jerking himself off until a moan reaches his ears, and he looks up just in time for come to hit his glasses

Gavin pants through it, painting Ray’s face, and then tucks himself away. He doesn’t have a fucking hair out of place. “There. That’s the way a little slut like you is supposed to look,” he says, voice casual as anything. He shifts, and Ray can’t tell what he’s doing until there’s a blinding flash and click from Gavin’s phone camera. Ray lets out a sob and curls into himself.

And then Gavin _leaves_.

Gavin leaves and Ray’s alone in an alley with come on his face and in his jeans and blood seeping sluggishly from his torso. And he’s hard. And he’s crying.

And he feels so fucking alive he’s weak with it.

It’s a long minute before he hears the gentle rumble of a car engine and a door slamming. He struggles to his feet, hands landing on him and keeping him steady when his knees buckle.

Michael and Gavin help him into the back seat of Michael’s car, Gavin climbing in next to him and Michael walking around to get in the driver’s seat and pull away from the alley. The heat’s on. Ray sighs, shutting his eyes.

“You guys are fucking gross,” Michael mutters under his breath. Ray can hear the concern in his voice, so he laughs.

“Hell yeah we are,” he mumbles, dazed.

“Are you okay?” Michael says, sounding exasperated.

“Nope,” Ray says cheerfully.

“You’re gonna get blood all over my fuckin’ upholstery, I— _Goddammit_.” Michael sounds beside himself.

“Sorry,” Ray says, not meaning it. “Seriously, though, I’m super hard, somebody better get me off again.”

Gavin cuts him a look, expression sharp. “You didn’t deserve it the first time,” he growls, tone hard and mean.

Ray’s cock twitches. He moans, doubling over.

The car swerves, and he hears Michael swear viciously. It feels like they ride up on the curb for a moment before the car steadies.

“Michael, honestly, focus,” Gavin says disapprovingly. “Don’t pay him any mind; he’s not worth the attention.”

Ray lets out a whimper. Up front, Michael squirms.

“Just— Get him off already, Jesus, he’s had enough.”

Gavin looks...concerningly devious. Practically lights up. He crawls up front, abandoning Ray in the back, and settles into the passenger’s seat. “Oh, Michael, you’re so sweet,” he coos.

Michael bites his lip and goes faintly red. “The fuck do you think you’re doing.”

Gavin goes wide-eyed, innocent. “Nothing? I just thought you deserved to know how good you are, helping me out with the trash tonight.”

The pathetic noise Ray makes is nearly identical to the one that comes out of Michael. The car swerves again.

Ray watches Gavin reach over and set a hand on Michael’s leg, fingers settling along his inner thigh.

“You should get a _reward_ for being such a good lad, that’s all I’m saying.”

Michael’s breath hitches audibly. “Gavin—”

“Shh, sweet thing.”

“This is supposed to be about Ray.” Michael sounds desperate.

“Oh, but I’ve got something much _better_ to play with now,” Gavin says, hand traveling slowly up Michael’s leg. “ _So_ much better. So good.”

Ray shivers, breathing hard, and works his cock from his jeans.

Gavin whips around to stare him down. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Ray freezes. “I—”

“ _Gavin_ ,” Michael whines. “Let him.”

Gavin’s expression goes soft again as he looks at Michael. It’s amazing how easily he can switch gears. “Look at you. So good, caring about him even though he doesn’t deserve it.” He turns back to Ray as Michael chokes out a moan. “You heard Michael. Do it. But if you come before I say you can…” He trails off, tone dark and threatening.

“Thank— Thank you, Gavin, thank you,” Ray gasps out, and he takes himself in hand again. His side hurts something awful, but the pleasure balances it out a little, almost complements it.

“Shut up,” Gavin snaps. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now.”

Ray bites his lip hard enough to draw blood and goes silent.

Michael looks cagey, uncomfortable, but even from the back Ray can see that he’s hard. He pulls into the garage and parks, the car still running. “Look, uh, maybe we should just—”

Gavin’s hand shifts, and Michael gives a choked moan. “Don’t you want to be good for me?” he says. Ray knows Gavin will pull away if Michael tells him to, but…

It doesn’t really look like Michael’s gonna tell him to.

Michael murmurs something.

Gavin smiles. “What’s that, love?”

“I said yes,” Michael whispers.

“Yes, what?” Gavin prompts.

Michael lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Yes, I— I wanna be good for you.”

“That’s it,” Gavin croons, leaning across the center console to nuzzle into Michael’s neck. It looks like he’s kissing him, but from the way Michael twitches, he’s probably biting. “I know you can be good for me. Don’t have to worry about putting you in your place like _some_ people.” He doesn’t even look at Ray.

And Ray can’t believe how fucking hard he is, having to grab and squeeze at the base of his cock to keep from coming. As much as Gavin’s treatment gets him off, he knows for a fact he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of coming before he’s allowed.

In the front seat, Gavin works Michael’s fly open and takes his cock in hand, stroking him slowly. “How about I make you come and then take you upstairs and fuck you, hm? Make you feel good. You deserve it.”

Michael gasps, hips jerking. “But— Fuck, what about—”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about him. He’s so desperate for it he’d open his legs for the next person to walk by on the street.”

Ray chokes out a sob. Gavin ignores him. Michael tries to catch Ray’s eye in the rearview mirror, brow furrowed in concern, but he ducks his head in shame.

Doesn’t stop jerking himself off, though.

The inside of the car is a haze of heat and blood and sex.

“But you’re better than that, aren’t you,” Gavin continues. His hand speeds up, and Michael writhes. “You’re so good, you’re _gorgeous_ , look at you.”

Michael whines, shivering. “ _Gavin_.”

“That’s right, you’re doing so good, you gonna come for me?” When Michael nods hard, Gavin smiles sweetly.

“ _Beg_.”

“ _Please_ ,” Michael says immediately. Ray’s cock jumps at the desperation in his voice. “Please, please, can I come, I wanna come, I’ll be so good for you—”

“Better than _him_ , yeah?”

Ray’s pretty sure there are tears running down Michael’s face. After some hesitation, he nods.

“Say it.”

“I— Gavin—”

“Be good, now,” Gavin says, some steel in his tone.

“Fuck, _fuck—_ I’ll be.... I’ll be better than Ray, okay, god—”

“Of course you will,” Gavin says gently, jerking Michael off faster, rougher, and he turns his head to look at Ray. “Because he’s _nothing_.”

Ray comes to the sound of Michael crying out.

When he comes down from it, ears ringing, Michael’s gasping for breath and there’s come on Ray’s hand and he’s sticky with blood and he’s pretty sure he’s crying, too. They’re both trembling.

Gavin’s making little hushing sounds as he reaches to turn off the car. He gets out, moving to open Ray’s door first.

Ray flinches. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, shit—”

“It’s alright, Ray, hush,” Gavin says, helping Ray out of the car carefully. Ray blinks in the harsh lighting of the garage, exhausted and sore, and Gavin cards his fingers through his hair soothingly, for just a moment, just long enough. “C’mon, let’s get you both cleaned up.”

Michael gets out of the car, scrubbing at his eyes and looking shaky, and pockets his keys. He walks around to where Ray and Gavin are standing and looks at Ray, wide-eyed, fingers twitching like he wants to touch him.

“I’m okay,” Ray says immediately. “Seriously, I’m good, that was… I needed that.”

After a moment, Michael nods, letting out a breath. Then he smacks Ray upside the head.

“Hey! What the hell?!”

“Gavin said you’ve been fucking going out and letting yourself get _mugged_ , are you kidding me, do you have a fucking death wish? No, fuck you, don’t answer that, I’m gonna wrap you in bubble wrap and make you wear a helmet at all times, I swear to god, it’s like you _want_ me to go grey early, I’m probably developing stress ulcers right now—”

Ray sighs contentedly, letting Gavin guide him to the elevator. Ray leans against him, the both of them exchanging a grin as they ride it up to the penthouse to the soundtrack of Michael continuing to ream him out without pause.

(“What the _fuck_ happened to you?” Geoff demands when they walk in.

Ray shrugs, grinning. “Some egomaniac asshole jumped me.”

Gavin flicks him hard on the back of the head and goes to find the first aid kit.)

 


End file.
